Void
by 0ri
Summary: Sakurazuka Seishirou, age 15, muses over the different aspects and points of existence, and what being alive really means. Little morbidity here, little sloppy incest there, and you have this. [sei x setsuki][sei x subaru]


Some thing that I just thought would be worth writing and sharing with others. I've always deeply pitied Seishirou… To have the ability not to love…. That's sad, isn't it? To be denied such a humanistic characteristic. Would life really be worth living if we didn't have emotions?

I warn you now; this is pretty morbid, people. So if you can't handle messed-up-evilness, look away, and find some thing else to read. It's not that I don't want this read, but I don't want to disturb anyone who might find this revolting. This has **INCEST**. But then again, x/1999 is a pretty… melodramatic, horrifying series, so who knows? Maybe you'll like this.

So anyway, I always recommend leaving feedback. Please review this when you're done, a good deal of effort was put into it. Comments/Critiques/even flames are always welcome! (not so much flames… :Shies away from flamers:)

Oh yeah, please disregard the random x's all over the place. It's the only way to fucking space some thing on fanfiction. I hate it.

**_Disclaimer:_** X/1999 is not mine and never will be. Though I hope to take over clamp one day and make it so. I can hope.

Enough chitchat, here's the story!

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**VOID**

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_Humans… I don't understand them. _

Seishirou watched from the Sakurazuka home idly as two pedestrians – one an adult, the other a mere child, embrace each other loving just out on the side of the street.

He really shouldn't have been watching this, and he knew – his mother would be home soon and she wouldn't want to wait for dinner; and it was his turn to cook today.

But he couldn't help himself.

A few minutes earlier, the child now held protectively in the woman's arms (whom he assumed was the girls mother) had crossed the street to retrieve a beach ball and nearly suffered a most horrible fate as a truck drew ever closer –

when Seishirou had willed up a little of his power to blow the child out of the street; just enough to push her out of the way before she became a pancake by the oncoming wheels. She'd scrambled a bit as her knees accidentally scrapped across the pavement, cutting them open a little and causing her to bleed – but nothing fatal otherwise.

He narrowed his eyes in deft inquisitiveness as the woman clearly cried out, not caring if any passers heard as she rushed to her child to hold her protectively,

"Don't ever do that again! What would I have done if I lost you!"

Longing… Love… Cherishment. Devotion.

Things that the handsome 15-year-old leaning against the camellia covered black fence could not comprehend. Could never comprehend.

He turned away from the display of affection, frowning in thought as he listened to the distant sound of his own bare feet tapping against the stone pathway as he made his way to his house. He looked up just before the doorway; observing the sight of his home critically with a hint of affection.

Really, it was a nice home. Small, convenient and homey. It was rare, if not nearly impossible to find houses in Japan these days. The country was so over-populated that suburban areas were taking over the land rapidly; like bugs over a crumb of bread.

And now that the spring was in full bloom – all the camellia's and cherry blossoms his mother loved so were splattered delicately over the home. Vines of plants crawled up the walls of the house, half-devouring it and spluttering more flowers out at the same time in a delicate dance of pinks and indigo's and whites… And the front of the house was nothing compared to the backyard; where in the country (as they were in), one could own enough land to grow millions of trees and house the farming of zillions of different vegetation. His mother did just that with any plant she found beautiful enough to harvest.

It was a rather pleasant sight; like a painting right out a fairytale book.

Seishirou searched deep within himself as he opened the door, sighing contently as the cool spring breeze whipped the short pitch-black strands of his hair astray.

What would happen, he wondered, if all this was ripped suddenly away from him? If the house just notoriously burned down, shredded apart, along with his mother, dispersed amongst the flames – right before his very eyes? Screaming, crying; begging for the help he could not give?

He leaned against the closed door, shutting the harsh amber orbs and tried to find some thing in him that would react to such a horrendous occurrence birthing before him…

And found nothing.

He smiled weakly.

Nothing.

He slipped on his black slippers nestled carefully against the doorway as he made his way to the open kitchenette to prepare dinner.

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Nightfall had long fallen by the time the dinner was fully prepared – some rare dishes of odd sushi's that Seishirou himself had thought of out of the sake of boredom, along with a large bowl of pasta that was also some thing of his own creation. He knew his mother preferred it when he made food of his own design – it proved to be much tastier.

The young Sakurazuka felt an odd sense of peace as he settled the soft candles along the glass table, watching with tranquil eyes as the each flame lightly flickered, coloring the whole room in a soft red glow. The whole set up of the table complemented the candles – a silk black tablecloth with the design of Sakura petals woven across the sheets in an intricate flow that could only be created by the firmest of artists hand – The white plates that smudged with a slight pink, matching the petals with their glow – And the cloth lining the two chairs placed opposite of each other; a simple black that wove into some thing more profound as the legs curved in a unique stance that was both distinctive and beautiful in its layout.

Seishirou placed the bowls of food kindly onto the table as he waited for his mother's arrival. It would be simply rude to begin eating without her.

But the darkness was becoming more distinct, and Seishirou watched in subtle silence as the candle wick slowly disintegrated away…

Seishirou didn't like being in total and absolute silence. He enjoyed it on frequent occasion, but not so much as that it would allow his mind to wander, leaving him with a large void gape in his chest that he still couldn't seem to fill. He didn't understand others – and he didn't understand _himself_, and it was driving him towards madness. He was blindly reaching for some thing that he didn't even know what it was, and yet he tried to grasp it…

Seishirou watched others grasp it easily and often.

He frequently out did others, both intellectually and physically on large scales – so why was it some thing so simple… Some thing that everyone else could have but himself… Why couldn't he? _Why?_

Emotions…

Love… Hatred…

The two things that made life worth living; air worth breathing, sight worth seeing, sounds worth hearing, touch worth feeling… It everything and anything…

He didn't have it.

He didn't.

And he was suffocating on his own apathy in his frail attempts to seek it out…

It was intriguing, to watch others engage in some thing so easily every waking day of their lives that he couldn't even come close to touching. He couldn't even imagine it.

What was the point of _existing_ if he didn't have two things so vital?

For the sake of existing?

Where was the sake in that if the one existing didn't even care if they had never been born at all?

But then again…

It didn't really matter.

Nothing really mattered.

"Seishirou-kun." Seishirou felt the nerves on his back tingle at the sound of his mothers voice calling him. He smiled to himself, a bit glad to have a distraction from his thoughts.

Standing up like a gentleman from the table, he followed the sound of her voice out into the hallway; he could sense as she dispersed an illusion spell – a tendency that was only used out of mere logic. It would become troublesome if some one happened to cast their gaze towards Setsuka as she made her way back home, arm painted in her victims flesh.

She came into his view, gingerly grinning at him. Gently, she locked her arms about his waist, coloring his clothes a bit red. "So sorry I'm late." She apologized, looking up into the eyes of her son to smile at him with her small dark lips.

Seishirou returned the gaze, leaning down to kiss his mothers forehead. He had grown but a foot taller then her. "No trouble, I presume?"

"No, it was simple, really. Actually, I finished awhile ago; I had to stop some where." She pulled herself from the embrace and he released her. He did not care to know why or where she had wasted her time and so he did not question; she would tell him if she wanted to. "Is dinner done being prepared?"

"A few minutes ago, yes. It would be a shame if it grew cold." He locked his arm with hers as if she were a princess, leading her into the display that was the kitchen.

She smiled fondly at the wonderfully set out meal – and he continued to lead her, pausing at her seat. Setsuka gently moved away to sit down, not even really bothering to wash the blood from her arm. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to be noticeable.

Seishirou filled the chair across from his mothers – commenting nonchalantly, "A bit of some thing I invented. I figured you'd enjoy it after an evening that harbors such exhaustion."

She nodded her head in agreement, though added with a look of malice on her features; "It will only grow more so. I have but one thing left to do for the day."

He glanced up at her with questioning eyes – then lifted the tops off a few bowls, releasing the wafting scent. With a large spoon he helped her to some pasta first, then sat back and added some to his own plate.

She looked delighted as she twirled her fork around it, tasting the noodles and slurping them with her lips, drawing her tongue out and licking the juice clean – a feat that was oddly sensual to the younger man seated opposite of her. He suspected she did it on purpose as he lifted his own fork to his lips for a taste. The episode of their first meeting he could still recall vividly enough to know that his mother was this kind of person.

"You're still a virgin, aren't you, Seishirou-kun?"

It took the younger Sakaruzuka a bit off-guard, but not enough for him to feel surprised. He nodded towards her, speaking carelessly – "It's a bit bothersome. Such a humanistic instinct, hormones are… And nothing to drive it off on."

She giggled at that, eyes lighting up. "Well, you'll have some thing for it today – tonight in fact."

"Oh…?"

"With me – I believe you've come of age. After we're done with dinner, perhaps." She continued to ingest the long noodles of pasta, swerving the fork around them as if they were some sort of fine ribbon – "Won't that be fun for you, Seishirou-kun?"

Seishirou simpered at that – it was some thing of a smirk that his mother had quickly come to adoring every time she saw it, like the look of a cat gazing down at the foolish mouse that attempted to break free of its clutch. This time, however, Seishirou seemed a little conniving and humorous towards the whole situation; More humorous then conniving, to say the least – which was rare of the young man.

His eyes most always spoke of some thing dangerous and predatory - it even made a shutter run up Setsuka's _own_ spine at the sight of it… And Seishirou wasn't even the Sakurazukamori yet. She was a bit proud of him; and proud of herself for creating such a fine heir to the Sakurazuka clan.

They continued their meal quietly; and they were both almost done when Setsuka commented – "You are much more mature then I was at your age."

"Am I?" Seishirou asked in feigning interest as he finished the last bit of pasta from his plate, savoring the sweet taste.

"You are," She nodded as if to prove her point. "I wonder who you inherited that from – certainly not your father. He was a reckless fool."

"I agree; but you ruined your lovely dress when you killed him."

She laughed heartily at that. "I think it looks better covered in his blood."

Seishirou smirked again, then stood from his seat, seeing as she was done as well took her plate also – making his way towards the sink to put the plates in. He rolled back the sleeves of his shirt and gathered up some soup, reaching out to turn on the facet –

He paused when he felt his mother's lips against the side of his throat, just grazing the skin there; a fleeing of a caress that nearly caused him to shutter in how ghostly it was – he hadn't even heard her move, either. He admired that – that ability of movement to be unheard, not even a slight ruffle of the fabric of her clothes – nothing whatsoever. Seishirou longed to posses that ability, and he decided then that he would in time.

He felt his mother's slender leg, from her knee to her ankle – moving around his right leg, stroking him in an odd but enthralling manner. Seishirou turned his face to look at her, disregarding the dirty plates.

"I think," Setsuki murmured, mimicking his musings, "That there are more… important manners to attend to." She turned Seishirou then so that his back was to the counter-top – her tedious fingers rubbing his chest, descending downward to his waist, and then further so – he gasped quietly as he was fondled, eyes widening a bit. This was all quite unfamiliar.

But was he nervous for himself? Afraid? Worried? No… simply found the situation exotic. He licked his lips, admiring that flavor of oddity that kept him alert with interest and a null curiosity that was expanding in him as he tilted his head back, showing his vulnerability as a way of encouragement on a subconscious level. Some thing else, too, like the feeling of a warm glow captivating his very being, was possessing him, guiding him to kiss and stroke the woman touching him, the growing urge for her to become more intimate in that brief touching of his body –

He took her hand, pulling her away despite his arousal. Looking into her eyes, he smiled. She smiled back.

This seemed to be another test for him.

Casually, Seishirou pulled away from his spot leaning on the counter top, and walked around the kitchen island out into a hallway. He roamed about in calm strides in spite of his anticipation and intentions as he led his mother to their destination - who was giggling childishly behind him, eager as ever.

Smoothly, he approached a door at the end of the hall, and it clicked as it was pried open with the smallest amount of effort. Setsuki had the larger of their beds, so it would deem more appropriate for them to draw out this… _test_ in her room. As Setsuki entered the through the doorway, Seishirou closed the door behind her, breathing lightly, pausing – loosing himself to the intoxicating scent of sakura and blood that seemed as if it was almost engraved in the room itself.

He narrowed his eyes, twisting his lips upward harshly and in secrecy – Setsuki was already gathered up on the wide bed, her thin frame stretched out over the white satin sheets. She was twirling a deep black strand of hair around one white finger, wrapping it in the black and then releasing it. She lifted her face to Seishirou's as he approached, ever-closer, her face placid, however, Seishirou could see just as easily – the lasciviousness of her amber eyes, a color that mirrored his own.

Seishirou admitted, in his mind, that his mother was an attractive person. Her rounded face, sharp ocher eyes, and long black hair made her look like quite an exquisite creature. A beautiful thing beneath his body, for him to do as he liked… He found that thought stimulating.

The mattress sank in a bit with the addiction of his weight, and he loomed over her; running a hand from her clavicle to her chest, touching, testing the way her body felt – _so soft _– he'd never touched another person before this, and it was a bit of surprise to him that women had such delicate bodies. It made him all the more aroused, however, since he knew clearly that behind that façade his mother was the head of the clan – the sakurazukamori – an assassin.

Danger was lurking for him, he knew, if he made one too many errors. But he also knew that his mother supposedly 'loved him'; at least, it was what she said – but he couldn't completely trust her, or even trust her at all. Errors were a fatal thing now; and that heightened the younger sakurazuka's interest to a painfully wonderful peak – only in these moments – blissful interactions that spoke of morbidity strong enough to result in his own death – did he feel his life was truly worth living, that this painful, meaningless existence that was only his could actually do him a little bit of fun.

For the teenager, the meaning of his life right now, was just that – play a game – with approximate, slow, thoughtful movements – any mistake would be a blunder that would lead him straight to... an afterlife? He didn't know. He couldn't see how he would like the afterlife much better if he didn't know how to please himself in life; so there wasn't really any afterlife that he could visually imagine in his mind that would bring him a sense of peace, of happiness, of… love? But he didn't know what that was either.

Shadows flew from the walls, dripping down from the night sky that was swallowing everything, painting anything and anyone in its impeccable, deep color. A long window on the left wall of Setsuki's room was providing the only light source through a crack in the willowy insipid curtains – a small moon that did little to spray the room it self, and the outside world as well; the world that existed past the bedroom, the world Seishirou knew he could never fit into.

He also understood the two of them here, in this miraculously sinister position - that little light was needed anyway. And so Seishirou left the light switch to itself, daring to move onward.

He began his play, tracing that thin neck with his fingers and sank his own neck down, lapping up at the flesh with his tongue. Setsuki moaned immediately, and he felt her hands on his back suddenly, crawling up his spine to his neck, pushing him closer, and then shifting into his hair – ruffling the black strands in her long fingers, massaging his scalp. Seishirou purred at the contact, enjoying it for all it was, as he continued his trailing of kisses and flickers of brief tongue from the side of her neck to the base of her throat – little things that were only meant to coax his partner for what was to come.

His narrowed amber eyes, dimmed with concentration, then caught the deft white of the crescent moon outside – eyes shimming a bright brown that was almost yellow, like sunlight glazing over a scrap of metal. He grinned, carelessly staring past the window as he tugged on his mothers bra, pulling with his teeth, his mother whispering lighthearted words of encouragement – and as the world outside remained oblivious to their actions, as always.

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Seishirou felt exhausted. Well, at least it was the weekend, he bemused as he glanced at his watch – it was 3 in the morning. His mother had fallen to sleeps arms after their activities, and Seishirou, even though finding the thought of sleep highly desirable at this moment – could not bring himself to rest.

And so he sat up on the left side of the large bed, hardly regarding the sleeping woman beside him as he searched one of her drawers for the pack of cigarettes he knew she always kept there – searching, searching until he could feel the texture of the mild seven box in his hand. He pulled it out, flipping it open and drawing out a stick. His mother wouldn't mind. In Japan, finding cigarettes was almost as easy as finding water.

The Sakurazuka placed the box back where it had been, and took a lighter he always kept on him from his back-pants pocket. The comfortable spring air regulating throughout the house felt nice on his bare chest, and the sweat that had covered his body a few minutes ago had already diminished off.

He watched as the flame flicked off from the lighter and pushed it to the cigarette. It quickly lit, and he pushed the capped lighter back into his pocket, casting it aside as he smoked. Long curls of gray swerved from the end of the stick, some spreading out too far and disappearing, only to be replaced by more smoke as he inhaled and exhaled, enjoying the taste of nicotine, the aftermath of sex that just left him feeling sleepy and _content_, and the breath of spring he was caught in, washing him in a wind that was as soothing as a hot Japanese bath.

Seishirou stood from the bed then, shrugging his shoulders, stretching his arms up in a feline-like way as he bit down the cigarette to keep it from falling from his lips, half yawning and half breathing in a mixture of nicotine and smoke. He shifted then to the only window, peaking out and only slightly pulling back the curtains, being careful not to burn anything with the cigarette. Up, he twisted his neck, staring at the moon, half-smiling to himself.

It was then, that a determination, the birth of a goal in his heart and mind – struck him.

_I want to find some one. _

He sucked the nicotine from the cigarette, closing his eyes and leaning his shoulder to the glass. The coldness of it made him shutter – the moon painting him in a silvery hue.

_The gender doesn't even matter to me. _

He slipped his eyes open, both ambers thinned into intense slits.

_Some one who knows kindness, who knows and understands others. Some one caring and cute and loving… A person worth falling in love with; a person downright _easy_ to fall in love with. _

Seishirou brought his palm to the glass, opening his eyes fully again. It was then that he truly smiled.

_It's a good goal. But then again, who would love some one that was to soon be an assassin? Ah well… I would probably have to lie. _

He moved back towards his mother, snuggling into the nest of blankets and wrapping the sheets around himself. The sakurazuka sighed silently, allowing his eyelids to drift shut.

_I'll find… some one… _

He fell asleep.

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_**Owari. **_

Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it:3 So leave feedback…. Please:tempts you with cookies:


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